Cooking MaMarui
by ThroughTheMonsoon
Summary: Was there any way life could get any better? Some kind of birthday fic for Marui Bunta. I am sorry to give you so much trouble on this fanfic, Marui-kun. But you get to eat the cake, probably.


**A/N:** Yo guys. Let's welcome another part of my Insomnia Party Stories. Woohoo! I have a bad case of insomnia, for real. Gekidasa daze. Well, yeah, I still don't care. I know I'm awesome.

**A/N2: **Please join us at this awesome RP group at Tumblr. potparadise. Thanks.

**NOTE: **This is an advanced-birthday fic for Marui! HAPPY BIRTHDAY~!

**WARNING/S: **OOC-ness may be evident, chaps. Also, this may mean trouble after marathons of Simpsons season 5 and 2-3 bars of chocolates and a big helping of Nutella. And some alcohol which we used Coke as a chaser for.

**DISCLAIMER: **Oh, if only disclaimers were non-existent. Do I even need to say it? I don't own Prince of Tennis, nor Cooking Mama, nor whatever.

**COOKING MAMARUI**

**By ThroughTheMonsoon**

* * *

><p>Five seconds of standing is already exhausting for Jirou, that's why he was so inexplicably happy every time he got home to his bed. Even more so when he got home from that match with Marui Bunta, the redhead bubble-blower from Rikkai, and that one with Fuji Syuusuke, tennis genius and eternal smiler of Seigaku. Man, they were good.<p>

But today, he had more pressing matters to do than sleep. Which is very surprising.

He sat on his bouncy polka-dotted bed and propped his bag against the pastel-colored wall.

What could possibly be more important that sweet, blissful sleep?

He took out his DS and switched it on. He had to do it. It was now or never. Now because there was no better moment than the present, and never because he'd just fall asleep and get lazy again.

But what, and again I ask, WHAT, could possibly be more important than sleep to Akutagawa Jirou, senior of Hyoutei Gakuen?

"_Let's play… Cooking Mama!"_

Jirou grinned as the title character waved her spatula at him, urging him to touch 'play' on the screen.

Our dear sleepyhead has actually gotten excited and fully awake because he attained gold stars on certain dishes now, namely Omelet, Gyoza, Rice Cookies, Spicy Pancakes and Pizza.

But why be so happy on such simple matters?

Because, finally, after six months of playing the game (well, he actually only played at least five times a month), he earned gold stars on almost three-fourths of all the dishes. The rest were silvers and bronze.

He was just about to touch the icon of the infamous bronze-medaled dish named Chicken Curry when something bad happened.

Luckily, he was on the bed, because the next moment, Jirou dropped the Hyoutei chibi regulars stickers-clad DS and Pokeball-topped stylus.

His head collided with the soft mattress.

* * *

><p>Here, we find him, once again holding the DS in his left hand and the stylus on the other.<p>

He selected the icon of his favorite game from the game menu of his 12-in-1 SD game card.

He smiled to himself as the intro-theme of his game played, the screen still black from loading.

Then it started.

"_Let's play… Cooking Mama-"_

"_Rui!"_

What was that?

As if to answer his thoughts, the screen blacked out again and his opening theme begun. He shrugged.

"_Let's play… Cooking Marui!"_

Followed by a pop of the familiar bubblegum.

Jirou stared at the screen. There, in Mama's usual position, was Marui Bunta, wearing a banana-colored chef's uniform like Mama's and wearing a black toque. Instead of a racket, he held a spatula, just like Mama.

There was a shriek, which may be due to shock or overjoy.

Everything was still the same. The song. The background. The buttons. The credits.

Except for the 'neon sign' and Mama.

"_Wait a minute, what am I doing here?"_

That was Marui-kun's voice. And it came from the screen.

"M-Marui-kun! What are you doing in my game?"

Marui popped another bubble. _"I don't know, that was what I was asking you!"_

"How did you get there?" Jirou asked, almost ready to shout "Atobe! Atobe! Look at my DS!"

"_I have no idea, but you have to get me out."_

"How?"

"_You have to…"_ The redhead thought hard, but in vain, since the answer came out of his mouth on its own accord.

"_You have to complete a hard dish."_

Jirou was freaking out. Why? Because Marui Bunta, famed player of Rikkai, was talking to him, Akutagawa Jirou, whom he has beaten in an official match.

"A hard dish…?" The sleepyhead asked once he got over his spazz moment.

"_You need to do it, kid!"_

_But I want to keep you in my game,_ thought the Hyoutei player to himself.

"What's in it for me?" Jirou asked casually.

Marui had a small panic-attack. _"I'll… Give you gum?"_

"That's not good enough."

The redhead groaned. _"I'll play you a match?"_

"Tempting," Jirou teased, "But no."

The Rikkai player grumbled to himself. He didn't want to even talk to this kid. He knew this player was a fan, and heard he probably had a dual-personality issue or something like that. He had fans, a lot of them alright, and this was a situation of a big no for him.

But you know what they say, drastic times call for drastic measures.

"_I'll hang out with you for three days, final call."_

Jirou grinned. "Deal!"

"_Okay, kid. Now press play and choose a hard dish. You'll know they're difficult when they're in a red frame."_

Jirou followed orders. He looked at the dishes, and some he swore he never knew was there.

"I swear I never knew these dishes were here."

"_Eh, you probably didn't notice them before."_

There were rarely any red frames, and most looked complicated. He had a hard time choosing until he came across the delicacy called Strawberry Cheesecake a la Mode (Wedding Cake Edition).

And that was actually the simplest of all red frames.

Akutagawa Jirou clicked on the dish.

* * *

><p>Over 3 hours later, Jirou was still playing the game, which was quite a record for him.<p>

Marui was cheering him on while commenting on how much he wants to eat the freaking cake, and he was doing everything careful but briskly, so as not to run out of time.

But there was this one time that Jirou almost got mad at Marui and the stupid game. Jirou was babbling excitedly about completing the dish when Marui blew another bubble.

"Marui-kun, you're really cool and because of that I'm getting you out-"

"_You know, I don't like you when you talk."_

Jirou breathed in deeply, reminded himself that this was the super-awesome Marui-kun of Rikka, and continued.

This was his 13th try, and the most successful one yet. He was on the last stage: presentation.

_A few tweaks ought to do the trick, _Jirou thought as he placed the strawberries precisely on the indicated spots on the cake.

"_Looks good enough to eat… Go, Akutagawa-kun!"_ Marui cheered as he blew his sixty-something-th bubblegum balloon, inwardly hoping that he does get to eat that cake.

Jirou sighed. "Done."

He was about to touch the serve button when something bad happened.

The Nintendo DS ran out of battery.

"_Noo-!"_

You could hear Marui Bunta's fading scream from the DS speakers.

* * *

><p>Jirou sat up, rubbing his eyes.<p>

The DS, glinting its sparkly Hyoutei chibi regulars sticker design, lay on his left, battery-saving mode on its duty.

The Pokeball-topped stylus lay on his right, the edge of the bed helping gravity taunt it to roll off.

Jirou grabbed the DS. He selected the icon of his favorite game from the game menu of his 12-in-1 SD game card.

He smiled to himself as the intro-theme of his game played, the screen still black from loading.

Then it started.

"_Let_'s _play… Cooking Mama!"_

"…no more…Marui-kun…?"

He restarted the game.

"_Let's play… Cooking Mama!"_

Mama waved her spatula at him, she in her normal pink chef's uniform, red scarf and white toque.

"Marui-kun?"

Jirou restarted the game once more.

"_Let's play… Cooking Mama!"_

"It was just a dream?" The drowsy player mumbled to himself, teary-eyed.

_"Noo-!"_

You could hear Akutagawa Jirou's fading scream from upstairs in his room.

* * *

><p>Somewhere in Rikkai…<p>

"Achoo-!"

"Marui, are you okay?"

"I think so… But I have a sudden craving for strawberry cheesecake a la mode."

"We'll get you some on the way home."

"Your treat"

A sigh. "Fine."

"…make sure it's as big as a wedding cake, okay?"

* * *

><p><strong>END.<strong>


End file.
